


break on through

by sarcasm_and_sabres



Series: a spark of time [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_and_sabres/pseuds/sarcasm_and_sabres
Summary: Sam’s day went downhill from the moment Bylsma called them into his office. He just wishes that ‘downhill’ in this division could mean something other than ‘the bottom of the world’s steepest cliff.’





	break on through

**Author's Note:**

> If you found this by searching yourself, please don't read it. This is fictional and intended solely for personal entertainment.
> 
> Second in the MHB Spies AU. I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary to read the first one, but it might be helpful.
> 
> Some detailed warnings in the end notes, but spoilers.

When Bylsma calls them into his office first thing in the morning, Sam has a sinking suspicion that his day is about to go rapidly downhill.

“Eichel, Reinhart, Ristolainen!” he barks from the entrance to the rookie room. “In here, now!”

They give each other quick glances as they hasten to comply. Sam doubts this is a promotion to full agent status, but he also can’t think what case this could be about. He and Jack are working together on a few things, and he and Risto on another couple, but none of the cases overlap with all three of them. He supposes he’ll find out momentarily, but these days he likes to have all his information ahead of time. He’d like to stay alive to see his twenty-third birthday.

“I’m sending the three of you undercover,” Bylsma announces when his door is shut behind them. “The human trafficking case you’ve been working on needs to get wrapped up and nobody else is making any progress. You’ll be posing as two criminals and a bystander who walked in on their criminal dealings. You don’t want to kill him but you want him gone, so you reached out to an associate and are going to sell him. The rest of the pertinent details are in these briefing packets.”

Sam doesn’t need to look at Jack or Risto to know what they’re thinking. It’s strictly against protocol for probationary agents to go out into the field without a full agent, and doubly so on a case with as much potential for danger as this one.

“Sir, are Gionta, Moulson, an—“

Bylsma doesn’t let Sam finish, cutting him off with a slashing motion and a glare. “Are you questioning my direct orders, Reinhart?”

“No, sir,” Sam mutters. Alright, so they’ll be going at it alone. It’ll be fine. They all have a decent amount of undercover experience and Jack in particular is fantastic putting on a different persona, despite having been here for only a month.

He takes the file Bylsma holds out to him silently and follows Jack into the briefing room, Risto trailing after.

“Catch me up,” Risto says, and oh, right, Sam’s been working this case with Jack and their veteran partners. As little intel as Sam feels like he has, Risto has none.

It doesn’t take long to fill him in on all the information they’ve gathered. So far they know a few fringe members of the organization and suspicions of some higher-ups, but nothing concrete.

They spend a quiet hour delving into the files, the silence only broken by the occasional clicking of a pen or tapping fingers. There’s no new information on the group like Sam had been hoping for, just an outline of the personas they’re to adapt and the mission parameters.

“Alright,” Jack says once they’ve all closed their folders. “I’m thinking I should be the innocent bystander, here.” He gestures at his face, where he’s got a black eye and a split lip from their hockey game over the weekend.

“Which makes us partners in crime. Got it,” Sam says to Risto, pushing down the churning in his gut. It makes sense that Jack would be the victim. He already looks roughed up and he’ll probably do a better job playing the part than Risto would. And Sam can’t volunteer, he’s the one who’s been developing a relationship with one of the fringe traffickers. “Johnson’s my contact, so I’ll call him. We should head out to our base of operations.”

Their base of operations is a shitty apartment in an even shittier area of town, and it’s usually where Gionta and Sam run things out of. He’s not sure why Bylsma picked it for this op when they have plenty of other, unused options, but he supposes it’ll work well enough.

“Let’s take your car,” Risto says, and Sam nods. From there it’s a simple matter of filing their briefing folders in the appropriate locked cabinet. One of the general handlers will check it at the time corresponding with the location and make sure they’ve made their check-ins as necessary. But if everything goes as planned, they won’t be in the field long enough to need to check in. Sam’s really hoping they won’t need to, or to have to test that their emergency links with their vet partners work.

Traipsing out to the car, Jack climbs into the passenger seat and Risto gets in the seat behind him with a blanks-loaded gun trained on the back of the seat.

“We’ll tie him up when we get there, no need to call undue attention,” Sam mutters as he starts the car, tossing a glare in Jack’s direction as he pulls out of the parking lot. He’s not Probationary Agent Reinhart, friends with Probationary Agent Eichel, he’s a criminal whose only interest in the man next to him is getting a profit.

\- - -

“Don’t fucking move a muscle,” Sam growls at Jack once they’ve arrived. He exchanges a look with Risto, silently communicating with him to stay where he is with his gun still pointed at Jack. He yanks the passenger door open, pulls Jack out, and presses a blade surreptitiously to Jack’s ribs as he manhandles Jack towards the building. The pressure’s not enough to cut through Jack’s shirt, let alone to break skin, but Jack can feel the threat and a trained observer would see it too.

Risto follows, darting in front of them to unlock the door, then slams the door behind them. Jack’s not struggling, just letting Sam shove him down the hallway. 

“Here, tie him up,” Sam says when they get into the apartment, shoving Jack at his partner in crime. “I’m going to make a call.”

\- - -

When he gets back into the living room, Jack is bound to a chair and gagged, eyes practically spitting fire. 

“So?” Risto asks, barely looking up from the burner phone he’s dicking around on. 

“Talked to Johnson. We should be able to get a decent haul for a guy like him. We’ve gotta meet him in two hours and bring this fucker along.” Sam jerks his chin at Jack, who mumbles something through the gag and struggles against his bonds. Risto looks back down at his phone and kicks at Jack’s chair. Normally, Sam would be concerned Jack’s trying to tell them something important, but Jack goes quiet again immediately, which means he was just putting up a protest for show. Sam had learned quickly that Jack’s too damned stubborn to give up on anything he deems important.

“I’m going to make food,” Sam mutters. It’s not that he’s not all in on this mission, but he doesn’t like seeing Jack like this. He knows it’s important in case anyone is watching them. He knows that. But this is also his first mission without Gionta. And fuck, he really needs to get his head in the game or he’s risking Jack and Risto. He wants a normal op, where they’re all on the same side.

\- - -

They have to untie Jack in order to get him out to the car, but he does a good job playing the part of a slightly dazed prisoner to match his bruised face. Risto cuffs him roughly once they’re back in the car, and Sam trusts that Risto will be in charge of him.

The location Johnson had told Sam—well, “Sonny,” technically—to meet him is a nearly deserted and not too reputable part of town, so Sam thinks it’s pretty safe to drag Jack out still cuffed.

Jack plays his part terrifyingly well, staggering and leaning into Sam’s rough grip on his bicep. His extremely muscled bicep, which is not at all relevant to the mission and something Sam needs to not pay attention to. If Sam didn’t know better, he’d think Jack really was an innocent bystander unused to violence and ready to pass out. 

“Get his other side,” Sam grunts to Risto, who grabs Jack’s right arm and helps Sam drag him inside.

“Hey, Sonny!” Sam hears as his eyes adjust to the darkness inside. “You’ve got yourself a specimen, huh?”

“I just want him gone.” Sam scowls, shoving Jack to his knees and resting his gun against the back of Jack’s head. The safety’s on so he can’t accidentally shoot Jack, but he needs to play his part. 

“You said he walked in on some business of yours?”

“Yeah. Figured I might get some profit off of him instead of having to worry about dumping a body.” 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Johnson says with a grin. “We could use a guy like him.”

“How much you gonna give me for him?” Sam asks. 

“Well, that’s up to my boss.” Johnson shrugs and gestures behind him. Sam tenses, ready to lift his gun and shoot, but another two men walk into view, no guns in sight. Sam’s sure they’re packing, though. And even if they’re not, better to overestimate than underestimate and be caught off guard. “Boss, this is Sonny.”

“Pleasure,” Johnson’s boss says coolly, stalking across the space between them. He stops in front of Jack, tilting Jack’s chin up with ring-studded fingers. Sam doesn’t have the angle to see, but if this was the type of thing people could place bets on, he’d wager that Jack’s gaze is wandering, unfocused and filled with well-faked fear. “Not a bad find.”

“How much you willing to pay me for him?” Sam demands. 

“I’ll give you four grand,” the boss says. “Take him off your hands right now, in fact.”

“Four? He’s worth more than that. Strong, young, tall, nice eyes for someone who’s into that; don’t try to sell me on only four grand.” Sam taps his gun against Jack’s head twice for emphasis and swallows down the implications of his own words. Jack’s never going to leave Sam’s sight, not on this mission. Jack cringes at the touch of the gun, cowering away from Sam and into the floor. 

“Fine,” the boss says, as smooth as before. “Seven.”

There’s a gun pointing at him a moment later. Sam doesn’t bother to flinch. 

“So, seven good for you?” the boss asks. 

“Seven’s fine,” Sam allows. “Money, and then you get him.” 

“You.” The boss jerks his head at one of his men behind him, and he comes forward with a briefcase. He opens it in front of Sam, and sure enough, it’s full of money. 

“Willing to let my partner here count it?” Sam asks, gesturing at Risto.

“He’s got two minutes.” The briefcase is set on the ground in front of Risto, who kneels in front of it to count. Sam keeps his gun on Jack, ready to lift it and fire if any of the other men look like a threat. 

“Hey!” There’s a new voice from behind Sam, and he tenses. Risto gets to his feet in a flash, gun unholstered immediately as he whips around to see who the new threat is. “Fuckwad, you fucked me over!”

The boss is rigid in front of Sam, earlier icy stillness only an act now. The gun’s pointing at the newcomers, not at Jack, and Sam hits the button on his watch that’ll call the MHB. It wasn’t supposed to be until they had enough to bring the boss in, and maybe some intel on even higher ups, but if bullets are about to start flying, it’s not the time to wait.

“I’m sorry, did you have a problem with our agreed upon sale price?” the boss asks.

“Yeah, fucker,” the newcomer spits. “Two of them died within the day, and now I find you’re doing my business without me? You’re fucking dead.”

Sam really doesn’t like being between the guns of two angry men, and he likes even less a defenseless Jack in the path of bullets. He yanks at Jack’s collar and Jack moves, still with the uncharacteristic lack of coordination. It does get the attention of all of the angry men with guns, but Sam had planned on that.

“Who do you think you are?” the new guy growls, gun now pointing at the three of them.

“Someone who wants no part in this and has no intention of infringing on your affairs,” Sam says quickly. Now that he’s had time to get a proper look, this guy seems familiar. Farris, maybe? Or, no, Harris. That’s it. Another human trafficker, but hasn’t really delved into other elements of the criminal underworld. Perfect. “This isn’t my business. Just wanted this guy out of my way.”

“Sure.” Harris’ eyes narrow and he aims at the boss again. “You bring this guy in to fuck me over more? Piss the fuck off. You’re not fucking going to—“

Harris staggers backwards, blood sprouting from his shoulder, and Sam only has a split second to make eye contact with Risto before everything explodes into chaos.

There are more men pouring in, unfamiliar to Sam, so he opens fire, trusting Risto to cover him from behind. And as long as Jack stays down, he should be safe. If Sam and Risto are still standing when this is over, that is.

Sam shoots two newcomers, center mass, and takes a split second to watch them drop before bringing his gun up to bear on three more men coming in. 

He recognizes Gionta first, then realizes it’s Moulson and Gorges along with him. Pretty good timing for backup. 

Gionta glances at him and exchanged the briefest of nods, gaze raking over Sam likely to ensure he’s still in one piece, then Sam turns back to the firefight.

He can see Johnson down across the warehouse, but it looks like the boss has taken cover behind some old filing cabinets. Sam is about to consider his options in getting to him when he hears Gionta mutter to Moulson and Gorges to cover him, and he knows his mentor well enough to know who his target is.

Sam watches, gun pointing towards any hidden men the boss may have, but movement in his peripheral vision draws his gaze just in time to see Moulson and Gorges drop.

“Sniper!” he hisses to Risto, scanning the rafters. “There!”

Sam fires at the same time he sees the figure in the rafters move, and there are three bodies tumbling to the ground in the next moment. 

And then, silence. Sam catches his breath, straining for the sound of more gunshots, but there’s nothing. 

“All of the men I saw are accounted for and down,” Jack announces from next to him, still on the ground. “You two clear the area, I’ll check on our guys.”

Jack doesn’t give them time to protest before he’s up and across the room towards where Gionta is lying, and Sam glances at Risto before moving off to clear the back half of the warehouse. 

Johnson’s pretty clearly dead, half of his face gone, and his boss’s corpse is in a puddle of growing blood. Gionta must’ve gotten a shot off before the sniper hit him. The other two men Sam didn’t know from the crew are dead as well, and Sam finally takes a deep breath when he sees Risto signal the all-clear back at him.

Jack’s moved from Gionta to Moulson and Gorges when Sam and Risto join him, and even though Jack is probably trying to hide it, the grief is pretty evident on his face.

He stands, blood on his hands and his arm and his face, and turns to the two of them.

“Dead. All three. Their sniper was good. Armor-piercing rounds.”

“I’ll call in a cleanup crew,” Sam says, walking a few steps away so they can’t see his face and trying not to let his own grief choke him. There will be time for that later. For now, they’re still in the field and there are responsibilities to be undertaken.

“Hey, you hit?” Risto asks, concern in his voice, and Sam turns back to face them with his phone still held to his ear. 

Jack waves a dismissive, blood-covered hand. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Identify,” the dispatcher barks into Sam’s ear, and Sam starts rattling off the pertinent information, watching Jack as he does so. He’s moving normally, but Sam’s pretty sure not all of the blood on him belongs to other people.

Sam hangs up and stows his phone. “Crew’s on their way. Orders are to stay here until they make it in. Now, Ja—Niner, are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” Jack snaps again. “Three of our guys are dead, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“And I don’t want it to be four, thanks.” Sam reaches for Jack’s arm, not expecting Jack’s yelp and hasty retreat. 

“It’s just a flesh wound, jeez,” Jack mutters. “It doesn’t need immediate attention. We’ve got other concerns first.”

There’s tension in every muscle of his body, and not in the way that makes it bleed off of him that he’s a threat. Jack’s upset and whatever injury he’s trying to hide isn’t helping his emotional control.

“I’ll wait outside for the crew.” Risto grabs his gun and makes a beeline for the door. 

“I think he’s tired of our bickering, huh,” Jack says, smiling weakly at Sam in what seems an attempt to brush the whole thing off. “I’ll hold until we report back.”

”You better.” Sam can’t help his quick glance at Gionta’s body, and he knows Jack won’t have missed it.

“He shouldn’t have sent us in like this,” Jack says abruptly, gaze dropping to the floor. “We didn’t have all the intel, and anyways the protocols against probationary agents being out alone are there for a reason.”

“And now three of our best agents are dead.” Sam can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Will you let me look at your arm, at least? Please? There’s nothing we can do for them now.”

Moulson would have been able to get Jack to cooperate. Sam doesn’t know how he’s supposed to keep them functioning like this.

Jack’s lips thin and he doesn’t look up from the floor, but he does hold out his arm. Good enough for now.

True to Jack’s word, it doesn’t seem too bad, just a graze. But it is still bleeding and it’ll be at least a half hour before they can get him checked out. Tearing the already ruined shirt sleeve, Sam ties it around Jack’s bicep and pats Jack’s arm. 

“Thanks, S—twenty-three,” Jack corrects. He rolls his shoulders and grimaces but moves away, bending down to pick up Moulson’s gun. The cleanup crew will bring their bodies back to HQ and their personal effects will be given to their families or the agents closest to them, depending, but Sam thinks this might be more about the comfort of not being defenseless. Not that it had saved Matt in the end.

“Hey.” Risto sticks his head in and waves to them. “Crew’s here.”

Jack stares down at Matt’s slack features for another beat, then turns sharply and stalks to the door. Waiting until he’s out of earshot, Sam stops next to Gionta’s body and crouches, closing his unseeing eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll—Jack and Risto and me, we’ll make you proud. We’ll make this worth it.”

Sam straightens, feeling stupid. Gionta can’t hear him, and nothing will make his death worth it. It was pointless, because of a bunch of worthless human traffickers caught up in a damn turf war. Fuck. 

Maybe Sam needs a new job.

\- - -

Risto drives them back to HQ, which is a good thing because Sam’s hands haven’t stopped shaking since he closed his captain and mentor’s eyes. 

“I’ll take Jack to the infirmary, if you’ll go start the report to Dan, Risto?” Sam asks once they’ve pulled into the parking garage. 

“No,” Jack says from the backseat before Risto can respond. “I’m going to talk to Bylsma before I go see Evan. Twenty minutes isn’t going to make it more likely that he needs to chop off my arm.”

“Jack—“ Sam says, and the exasperation is too plain in his voice, he really needs to keep himself under control better but Jack’s still bleeding and should go see their medic and their veteran agents are dead.

“It won’t take long.” Jack’s apparently made his decision, because he’s already getting out of the car and going towards the door that’ll lead to Bylsma’s office. Exchanging a glance with Risto, Sam holds back a sigh and they both hurry after him. 

Jack knocks once on Bylsma’s door and enters without waiting for a response. Bylsma frowns when they come in but says nothing, just gestures for them to be seated.

“Well?” he asks.

“Sir, Gionta, Moulson, and Gorges are dead,” Jack says, and there’s a definite edge to his voice that Sam’s not sure he likes.

“How? Full report.”

Jack relates everything from when they’d left headquarters, just..just a few hours ago. It’s only been a few hours. Fuck.

“Sir, did you know there was a conflict between these two groups?” Jack asks, and Sam has to keep himself from visibly reacting. Surely Bylsma hadn’t known, he wouldn’t have sent them in otherwise.

“I thought the three of you had the skills necessary to adapt to the changing situation,” Bylsma says, and Sam can’t hold back his flinch this time. 

“Yeah? And how about your other three agents? Matt had kids! A family! And now he’s dead!”

“Agent Moulson knew the risks, the same as you did,” Bylsma says, and the calm in his tone grates on Sam’s nerves like nothing else.

“Yeah? Except that we didn’t know the risks. Because you sent us in without all the intel and that resulted in the death of three agents, never mind the breach of protocol in sending the three of us undercover alone.” Jack’s ears are bright red and his hands are clenched into fists at his side, and Sam has no idea how he’s sounding so calm while so obviously enraged.

“Eichel, let me remind you that I am your superior—“

“And let me remind you that you have your own superiors, sir, who I’m sure will be very interested in hearing about how your captain died.” Jack takes a deep breath and relaxes, unclenching his hands and letting his shoulders drop. Sam had seen his transformation of personas already today, but he’s still a little in awe at Jack’s skills. It’s like he’s never been angry, never been able to threaten someone with just his body language. “I’m afraid I need to go get checked out by medical to have a bullet graze examined. Might I be dismissed?”

Bylsma is visibly seething now, but he nods once. “All of you are dismissed. Get out.”

Sam waits until they’re out of Bylsma’s earshot before speaking. “Jack, that wasn’t—“

“He got Gionta and Moulson and Gorges killed, and any or all of the three of us could have died too. He can’t get away with this.” Jack looks at him, something helpless in his tight expression. “It wasn’t smart of me, but he can’t do this.”

“What are you going to do?” Risto asks. 

“First you’re going to get your arm cleaned and wrapped,” Sam cuts in. “Then we’re all going to deal with this together.”

“Okay,” Jack agrees. If Sam weren’t looking for it, he wouldn’t have noticed the faint twitch of Jack’s fingers.

\- - -

“What’s the next step?” Sam asks once Rodrigues has finished tending to Jack’s wound and stepped out to give them some privacy.

“I’m going straight to the Pegulas,” Jack says, shrugging into the clean shirt Risto had snagged from his desk. He’d turned down Rodrigues’ offer of painkillers but still betrays no sign of discomfort. 

“Not to Murray?” Sam asks.

“No. He’s as complicit as Bylsma is in all of this. I want them both gone.”

Risto looks angry in a way Sam rarely sees him outside of the field, pale skin flushed.

“I’ll go with you. This division needs a full overhaul, from the top down.”

“We’ll all go,” Sam says. Risto’s right, of course. Buffalo’s been a disaster for a lot longer than just this case.

“I don’t want this to stay the same,” Jack says, and there’s fire burning in his icy eyes. Sam thinks that it might just be the exact spark this place needs. “No more deaths like today, like Miller, like Brière and Drury. I want to turn this place around. I want us to actually be able to solve cases and do our damn jobs and make a fucking difference.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> -mentions of human trafficking  
> -characters being shot, fatally and otherwise  
> -the main characters who die are not Jack, Sam, or Rasmus  
> Let me know if there’s anything I need to add!


End file.
